


A Fork in the Road

by FeelingFredly



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: 007 Fest, Eve Moneypenny & Q Friendship, Gen, Headcanon, Pre-James Bond/Q, Sorta Fluffy, sorta angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 21:52:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19484761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeelingFredly/pseuds/FeelingFredly
Summary: Headcanon: Q hates plastic cutlery





	A Fork in the Road

**Author's Note:**

> My inaugural post in the fandom--although I hope not my last. I'm not familiar with the Tumblr groups, but hope no one minds my crashing the 007 Fest party! :)

“Knock, knock, Quartermaster!” Eve said, rapping a knuckle on the partially open door. “I bring you glad tidings of great joy.” She waved a sack that smelled divine into the small opening. “And although it isn’t exactly Christmas, I _do_ have Massaman curry from that place you like so much over in Pimlico.”

Q pushed his chair back with an embarrassed groan and ran a tired hand through his hair. “Oh, I _am_ a right arse. How late am I?” He glanced at his phone and sighed. He’d meant to just tie up his loose ends and meet Moneypenny to go for fish and chips at the Red Lion… two hours ago.

Q looked at the stack of paperwork occupying the only other chair in his office and grimaced. Having one chair typically ensured only one idiot bothered him at a time. If he happened to pile things on it regularly, it wasn’t an intentional effort to reduce that number, but it happened to work that way, and who was he to complain?

“Just shove the dinosaur fodder out of the way. I am so sorry. I meant call you. I was running a little late already, and then 009 did what 009 does and I ended up having to erase half an hour of him rampaging through the streets of Vienna on a stolen motorbike. Luckily, they haven’t changed their CCTV security codes since the last time I had to scrub them, but by the time I’d finished that R had found a problem with one of the programs we’re supposed to be sending 002 out with Friday, and, as you can see,” he waved an apologetic hand at his computer screen, “down the rabbit-hole I went.”

Eve dropped the bag in front of him before picking up the stack of offending papers and setting them on another pile threatening to topple over on his second desk.

“Don’t let Marianne hear you call these dinosaur fodder,” Moneypenny said, settling into the plastic monstrosity of a chair more gracefully than should have been possible. “Those hard-copies are the only record Accounting has for some of those expenses. Double-Ohs aren’t exactly _on-the-record_ all the time, you know.”

Q’s stomach rumbled and suddenly he realized he was _starving_. He pulled the still hot tray out of the bag and took a deep breath. Heavenly.

“Well, Marianne should join me in my perennial request to the powers-that-be to update the system so that important things like that aren’t single-point-of-failure items anymore.” He started patting his pockets, and when he didn’t find what he was looking for, started searching his desk _. Damn it. Where did it go?_

“I know, I know,” Moneypenny nodded, having heard the argument at least a dozen times before, “but for now, you should smile and nod and let her think her forms in triplicate are as fascinating as her grandchildren. You’ll get your budgets approved faster.”

Q shifted his second tablet to the side, and then lifted his laptop to peer under it. Still nothing.

“What _are_ you looking for?” Eve asked, watching him excavate his desk with more energy than she usually saw from him unless a deadline was looming or someone was getting shot at.

Q stopped his search momentarily and looked up a little awkwardly. “Ah, I was looking for my…” There! He saw it, the end of a pen peeking out from behind a tin of tea. “This! Just this.”

He held up the pen and Moneypenny shook her head and laughed. “You don’t have to sign for your dinner, darling. I’m not _that_ fashed that you skipped out on the pub.”

Q held the pen still for a moment and then pulled the cap off. “It isn’t actually a pen.” He held it up with a flourish and Eve raised an eyebrow in polite enquiry. “It’s actually something I came up with a while ago. I found it useful to have when I would get stuck here over mealtimes.” Q activated the hidden mechanism and the handle split open to reveal a slim fork, tines expanding to full-size as they cleared the casing.

“A fork?” Moneypenny was laughing again, but Q just nodded.

“Yes. The tines are made of titanium, see? It’s lightweight. Strong. I thought about making more for the agents, but somehow the thought that one of them would end up stabbing someone in the eye with it kind of ruined the whole thing for me, so I stopped after this one.”

“Q. Darling,” her eyebrow was still cocked, “there’s at least half a dozen plastic forks in that bag. You didn’t need to go all Doctor Livingstone just to eat your supper.”

Q shifted uneasily in his seat as he pried the lid from the takeaway container. “I know. I simply prefer to use something a little more _substantial_ , I suppose.”

He felt the weight of her eyes resting on him and knew she could tell there was something more going on than a disdain for plastic sporks, but she was too polite to ask. Sometimes he hated having a trained observer of human nature as his best friend. It kept things interesting, but it made personal space difficult to maintain.

To be fair, she’d never used her inside insights against him. Even his drunken confession of an unrequited _something_ after Bond ran away with Dr. Swann had gone no farther than the floor of his loo where she held his glasses whilst he reacquainted himself with the intricacies of modern plumbing.

“You do love your toys.”

It was true, as far as it went, and he could leave it there. But maybe letting her know a little of the rest wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe. Oh, well... _hell_.

“My file doesn’t say much about the time before M, _my_ M, found me. Mostly because there wasn't much before that.” He focused on the curry in front of him, letting the words fill the space between them. “I guess I was sixteen? My parents were… well, let’s just say there’s a reason I don’t like to fly, and I’d been on my own by that time for about a year. School was boring, and I was grieving and angry, but one does what one must, right?”

He’d heard the rumors—he’d hacked MI5. He’d been an international criminal. He’d set his resume as the wallpaper on M’s personal computer. The truth, though, was much less exciting. “Life insurance and a healthy estate made things much easier than they could have been, but having no one but a state-appointed guardian leaves a lot to be desired as far as care and keeping goes.” He sighed at looked across the office. There was no pity on Eve’s face, but her lips might have been a little tighter than usual. “I pushed through my A-levels at fifteen. Entered Uni at sixteen. That was when someone referred my file to MI6, and they started watching me. Then, two degrees by twenty, and an offer from MI6 by the time I’d gotten halfway through my third. On paper, it was a very successful time.”

He looked up and braced himself f the rest. “But, at the end of every day I was alone in an empty house. Every meal was takeaway. Plastic cutlery and paper plates. Years of it.” He shrugged as if it didn't matter. “If I never use another plastic fork it will be too soon.”

Q held up the pen-fork. “M knew I needed something else or I’d burn out completely. Either that or turn into a world class villain, but I don’t think she thought I had that much imagination honestly.” He didn’t say that she changed her mind later, but it was one of his favorite memories.

“So, she offered me a position and I came to Q Branch. Most everyone was older than I was, and there was more than a little suspicion about my qualifications—you know how it is to be the youngest in the room—but I understood them. I spent a lot of time in the labs hanging out with the other rats working on pet projects. Most of them were weapons, but I loved working on the subtle bits. The cuff links that were Geiger counters. The miniature cameras. The fork idea impressed Q.” He laughed softly. “The man had a huge soft spot for things that looked like other things, but they had to _work_. He told me that seeing the effort I put into this—the miniaturization, the durability, the attention to details—was what convinced him I was in the right place, and after that he made sure that I knew it, that I had a place.”

“For the first time I didn’t end my days alone.” Q looked pointedly at the tin foil tray of curry on his desk but there was no dissatisfaction in it. “The meals may still be takeaway, but the rest…” he looked at Eve and though he flushed at the soft look around her eyes, it made telling her worth it. She understood. He handed her a cup of sweet mango rice and one of the loathsome plastic spoons with a half-smile. “There’s nothing disposable about the rest.”


End file.
